Leaving

Fudge made a special visit to see Sirius Black and have his picture taken with him.

A die-hard supporter of You-Know-Who, a fiend who had blown up a street and killed twelve people—there was no doubt he was someone worth paying attention to.

And someone worth publicizing.

That was the publicity strategy Fudge had settled on long before he arrived.

After the pictures were taken, Fudge was about to leave when Sirius asked if he could keep the Daily Prophet.

"I want to do the crossword puzzle in it."

He pointed to the newspaper as he spoke to Fudge.

Fudge gestured for the reporter behind him to capture the moment.

"Of course, Mr. Black."

Fudge was very friendly and generous toward this descendant of a Pure-blood Family.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, there's nothing worth seeing here. Let's head back."

Fudge pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

He led the others out of the castle.

When they reached the beach, Fudge looked at the sinking sun and breathed a sigh of relief.

Another task completed. He could go home.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's take one last picture here.

Look at that sunset. Isn't it beautiful?"

He spread his arms as he spoke, and the reporters with him naturally had no objections.

"Certainly, Minister."

They stood beside Fudge. At a reporter's signal to look at the camera, the picture was taken.

In the photo, Fudge was smiling happily, while Azkaban loomed grim and forbidding behind him.

After the picture was taken, Fudge called over a few Hit Wizards to offer them some encouragement and a few words of advice.

He didn't like this place at all.

Even without the Dementors, it was hard for him to keep a smile on his face.

Only after leaving the castle did Fudge feel the tension drain from his body.

I'm never coming back to this hellhole.

Fudge swore to himself.

As everyone enjoyed the cheerful moment, they failed to notice a tiny Golden Beetle emerge from the crumbling, dilapidated castle and slip silently aboard the ship.

It was Dewey.

Compared with the ship that had brought the Death Eaters here the last time, this one was downright luxurious.

It had two small decks, like an oversized yacht, with a proper café and lounge. There were no lights, though; candles provided the illumination.

When Dewey flew in, the candles were singing.

They were literally singing, their mouths open wide in delight.

Dewey quietly hid in a corner.

It looked like a bedroom.

After a while, Dewey heard Fudge talking loudly as he approached from a distance.

He was coming toward the room.

When the others boarded, someone tapped the side of the ship with a wand, and it began to move on its own.

"Honestly, Azkaban is such an unpleasant place."

Fudge was talking to someone. Dewey heard a chair being pulled out, followed by the sound of two people sitting down.

Dewey saw two pairs of legs.

"Would you like something? Tea? Coffee?"

The Minister for Magic asked. The person opposite him said, "No, thanks. Water will do."

"Very well."

The Minister for Magic didn't move his hands, but Dewey heard tea being poured.

From where Dewey was, he could only see the two pairs of legs.

Dewey was tense. He knew he was still in extreme danger. He didn't know when the Hit Wizards in the prison might notice he was missing.

He also didn't know when these people might discover him.

The Minister for Magic and the person opposite him were still talking.

This time, though, their conversation turned to Dumbledore.

They mentioned Dumbledore by name.

Fudge sounded rather troubled.

"My owls—yes, the owls I send to Hogwarts—never get a reply."

He sounded dissatisfied with Dumbledore.

Complaints poured from his mouth without end.

The person sitting opposite him said nothing. From the sound of it, he picked up his teacup and took a sip of water.

He didn't want to get dragged into the trouble between the Minister and Dumbledore.

He was only there to listen.

Dewey's thoughts were racing.

He had to keep his mind working at all times.

He had to remember he was human and fight off the side effects of being an Animagus.

I have to keep my mind active. So who is he? Someone who keeps writing to Dumbledore. A cowardly minister. He's Fudge. Fudge—this must be Fudge, the Minister for Magic. How many years have I been locked up in Azkaban? Fudge is in office, and Harry Potter has started school. What year is he in? Wait, Sirius hasn't escaped yet, so Harry Potter can't be in his third year. Is he in first year or second?

Dewey's mind raced as he pieced things together.

Fudge kept talking to the man across from him. From their conversation, Dewey realized that the Minister for Magic was a complete fool.

He kept complaining to his subordinate about Dumbledore, and the subordinate would occasionally murmur, "Mm," without Fudge seeming to find anything wrong with it.

"I'm never going to ask Dumbledore for help again," he finally swore bitterly.

Dewey had no idea how much time had passed when the ship suddenly jolted.

They had reached shore.

The door suddenly opened, letting in a gust of cold air that scattered the steam rising from the hot water.

A Hit Wizard—one Dewey knew very well—hurried in from outside.

"Minister." Dewey recognized the Hit Wizard's trousers: pale blue pinstripes, unwashed for ages and still marked with grease stains. "A prisoner is missing."

"What?"

Fudge sprang to his feet. In his surprise, he forgot to catch the chair, knocking it straight over.

Just as Dewey thought it would crash to the floor, the chair's four legs bent slightly, and it stood to one side, grumbling.

So this is magic?

Dewey wondered. Fudge, however, paid no attention to that. He took a deep breath, trying to look calm and composed.

"What happened? I mean, who escaped?"

"Dewey Jones. A Death Eater."

The Hit Wizard answered quickly.

"Dewey Jones?"

Fudge licked his lips. "That's terrible news, isn't it? Terrible news."

He paced back and forth, looking extremely agitated.

Dewey saw how heavily he walked, his feet thudding against the floor.

He went up to Walker and asked again, still clinging to a sliver of hope, "Are you sure he escaped, Walker?

He didn't just disappear for some reason? He escaped, he isn't dead, and he isn't hiding somewhere you haven't looked?

Have you searched the entire island?

And the Dementors—did the Dementors search too?

Are you sure he really escaped? He didn't die?"

Dewey could see that Fudge was desperate to avoid the idea of someone escaping from Azkaban.

He didn't want to believe anyone could escape Azkaban.

Nothing like that had happened in centuries.

"Yes, Minister,"

Walker said.

Dewey looked at the Applewood Wand.

So his name was Walker.

Dewey thought to himself.

Walker said urgently, "Please come with us. We need to search this ship thoroughly and make sure Dewey isn't here, where he could hurt you.

We've also contacted the Aurors. They'll be arriving from the Ministry of Magic soon. The ship has already reached shore."

"All right, all right. I need to write to Dumbledore. This is all utterly absurd.

I need Dumbledore's help."

Fudge said.

Walker helped him out, and the aide followed. Dewey carefully crept out from the shadowy corner and flew toward the door.

Outside, everything was in chaos.

As a Death Eater, Dewey wasn't as famous as Bella and Sirius or Antonin Dolohov, but he was still a notorious criminal.

More importantly, Dewey was the first person in centuries—or at least the first anyone knew of—to escape from prison.

It was so shocking that Fudge simply couldn't believe it.

The Hit Wizards boarded the ship, and Dewey prepared to fight to the death if necessary.

He rehearsed the confrontation in his mind: the Armor Charm could block one spell, and then he could Apparate away.

An Animagus wasn't invincible. He remembered that Lupin knew how to make an Animagus reveal himself.

But Dewey realized he had clearly overestimated this bunch of fools.

Even the Hit Wizards hadn't considered the possibility of an Animagus.

They searched hurriedly once, then escorted the Minister and the reporters away.

Dewey flew off the ship. He didn't even know where he was before he vanished from the area.

Half a day later.

Hogwarts was like a zoo.

Even Professor McGonagall, resting at home, was astonished.

She was supposed to be at home, but when she saw countless owls flying toward Hogwarts, she thought something serious had happened.

She hurried to the school, where she found many curious staff members watching the owls overhead.

It was the holidays, so there were far fewer little troublemakers around the school.

Especially those two adorable Weasley boys.

Without them, Mr. Filch had a much easier time.

When she entered the Headmaster's Office, Professor McGonagall immediately asked,

"Headmaster, has something happened at Hogwarts?"

When the big man, Hagrid, saw Professor McGonagall, he hurried over to greet her.

Professor McGonagall nodded too. "It's so good to see you, Hagrid."

Hagrid took some of the owls away.

After their long journey, some of them needed careful attention before they could fly home again.

Soon, only McGonagall and Dumbledore remained in the office. Dumbledore waved his wand, inviting Professor McGonagall to sit.

In response to Professor McGonagall's question, Dumbledore said casually, "Nothing much," he said as he read a letter. "Just a prisoner who escaped from Azkaban."